


BTS - Drunk sex with Suga / you try anal

by Insfiringyou



Series: Headcanon Masterlist [35]
Category: K-pop, bts, 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Drunk Sex, Drunkenness, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Gen, Oral Sex, Sex, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-08
Updated: 2019-04-08
Packaged: 2020-01-07 00:57:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18399869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Insfiringyou/pseuds/Insfiringyou
Summary: AN: Although this scenario can be enjoyed on its own, we imagine the reader here to be Jeong-sun, Suga’s girlfriend who features in our headcanon universe. This takes place around 5 months into their relationship, after he has told her he loves her but before the events of Boat Party.Read more about our headcanon universe on tumblr here: https://insfiringyou.tumblr.com/post/182981155716/bts-explaining-our-headcanon-masterlist





	BTS - Drunk sex with Suga / you try anal

You giggled and clutched onto the dark, mossy green fabric of his sweater sleeve as you righted yourself and closed the front door of your apartment. You had both tripped over the front step, staggering and unstable from the amount of beer you had consumed at the chicken restaurant. It had been his idea to meet you after work and he had waited patiently outside the shop front as you closed up the pharmacy, locking the cash in the office safe, turning off the electricity for the night and finally closing the metal shutters. You weren’t supposed to close up by yourself but the co-worker who usually joined you on the evening shift had called in sick at the last minute and your boss was unable to find cover fast enough. You usually wouldn’t mind too much. After all, your co-workers loved to pass the time by gossiping about the latest K-drama news which you could never keep up with, but you were supposed to be meeting Yoongi back at your apartment to spend the weekend together. 

You called him as soon as you realised you wouldn’t be finishing on time after all; the close up was a two person job and it would take you much longer by yourself. You were surprised to find him waiting outside for you when you finally locked up the store front. 

“It’s late.” He explained as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, pulling him into an embrace. “The busses stop in twenty minutes...” He didn’t have to explain that he had been worried about you walking home by yourself so late at night. You gently kissed him on the lips and when you pulled away, he asked whether you had eaten. You had quickly nipped home first to get changed out of your uniform, instead opting for a pair of well-fitting navy jeans and a fairly new low-cut top. He had watched you get changed from the corner of your bedroom, his eyes roaming a little over your curves but remaining silent. 

Now, safely in the familiar comfort of your cramped and slightly messy apartment, your stomach full of chicken and beer, you turned to him. 

“Put the leftovers in the fridge.” You gestured towards the small kitchenette by the edge of the living room. He had been heading there anyway, clutching a white plastic bag in his hand. 

He flashed you a wide grin, his pink gums partially exposed above his full upper lip. “You won’t want them tomorrow...” 

You shook your head although you suspected, through the foggy haze of your drunkenness, that he was probably right. The restaurant, just around the corner from your small, one bedroom apartment, had been very cheap and you had overestimated your appetite after your long evening shift. The waiter, a young, ache-scarred man barely out of his teens, had regarded you with a confused frown when you had asked if you could take the remainder of your dinner home as leftovers. Yoongi had watched this exchange with a grin, leaning his elbow on the table and resting his chin against his closed fist. As you left the restaurant, he had insisted that you wear his leather jacket for the short walk home; the weather seemed to have dropped at least ten degrees since you had set off. 

“It’s wasteful...” You now explained as you joined Yoongi in your small kitchen and tugged gently on the hem of his sweater. You had seen him wear it on several occasions before, usually around his apartment when he was working on his songs, but today, despite its casualness, you were finding it incredibly, frustratingly sexy. You pulled him a little more playfully as he bent down over the small fridge and opened the door. Leaning over his shoulder, you regarding the contents of the box; a few eggs, a sliver of streaky bacon, some mouldy salad in the bottom compartment. He reached inside and started to place the carrier bag on the empty top shelf as you hovered behind him. Instead of leaving the bag there, however, he quickly straightened up and retracted his hand, closing the fridge door and dropping the carrier into the garbage bin beside it. Your mouth opened in shock. 

“No! Why did you do that?” You gasped, horrified. It was probably the drink. 

He flashed you another shit-eating gummy grin, incredibly proud of himself. You thought it incredibly obvious that he was feeling more than a little tipsy himself. Although you didn't get drunk often together, when you did you always found him to be good-humoured, silly and a little more affectionate.

“There are children starving Yoongi!” You found yourself grasping hold of his green sweater, subconsciously pulling him towards you despite your displeasure at his seemingly selfish actions. 

“You wouldn’t have eaten them.” Yoongi explained with a small, breathy laugh. “Even the waiter at the restaurant was confused...” 

You opened your mouth and quickly closed it, knowing he was right. “That’s not the point...” You tried to argue. 

“It looked like shit...”

You scoffed. “You look like shit!” 

His grin remained as you edged him closer by the hem of his sweater. His crotch pressed against your stomach. “Break up with me then.” You could feel his warm breath against your face as he looked down at you, his attractive smile remaining. His hands sneaked around to the roundness of your bottom, squeezing you through your skinny jeans. You looked down to find that your own hands were still clutching at wool. 

“Where did you even get this thing?” You asked, your voice softening. 

He followed your gaze. “Online. It was 23,000 won with postage.”

You smirked and mocked. “Aren’t you fancy?” Roaming your hands under his sweater, you brushed the soft swell of his stomach while his own hands moved over your arse slowly, kneading the flesh there gently. He looked down at you with deep brown eyes, his face now centimetres from your own. His smile had gon and you felt your heart thudding in your chest, your stomach fluttering with butterflies. 

“Do you want me to get one for you?” He asked. 

“No.” You shook your head, your voice full of mock disgust. You moved forward and opened your mouth against his, standing on your tip-toes to press closer. He returned the kiss passionately, pressing his tongue into your mouth and grasping the back of your head with one palm, pulling you into him. You were both a little clumsy in your drunkenness and mutually allowed the kiss to become a little messy and discordant. When you pulled away from him your mouth was wet and you could see that his own lips, flushed red, also glistened with your saliva. 

You sighed dramatically wrapping your arms tightly around his neck. “You’re such a cunt.” You grumbled. 

“You’re a cunt.” He contended, his purr voice low against your lips. 

“Why did you do that?” You asked, sulking, suddenly aware you sounded like an annoying child but unable to break your trail of thought. 

He let out a breathy laugh. “You’re still mad about that?” His hands ran under the leather jacket and brushed your covered back, skimming his long fingers along your hips and rib cage. Your body felt hot and tingly and you could tell your cheeks would be flushed red. 

You rolled your eyes. “It’s the principle..” You leaned forward and kissed him again, capturing his lips between yours. The sound echoed around the room as he pecked you back.

Pulling his mouth from you he grinned. “Do you want me to fish it out for you?” He kissed you again, his soft, wet lips massaging yours. “I could serve it to you for breakfast tomorrow along with those out-of-date eggs on the bottom shelf I saw...” His voice was so comforting against you, his breath warm and pleasant against your mouth and nose and cheeks. 

You playfully slapped his arm. “Fuck off...” 

“I love you.” His voice was low and sincere, despite his grin. 

“Are you sure?” You teased, meeting his gaze across the small space. You could feel his entire body pressed against you; your breasts felt sensitive and delightful against his chest. 

His hands stopped their roaming and he held you still against him, his fingers splayed across your hips. When his mouth returned to yours he was incredibly tender and you could feel the emotion in his lips. 

You naturally moved together across the small living room and towards the narrow hallway which led to the single bedroom, your bodies only breaking apart to dodge the array of objects which littered the carpet and presented a tripping hazard; your ironing board, a half-filled basket of laundry, the television remote control on the floor. Your bed was likewise a mess and, as you moved apart to your respective sides of the bed, you both leaned forward in unison to clear the duvet. He was much more careful than you; placing your pot of moisturiser, hairbrush and Stephen King paperback on your bedside table. In contrast, you swiped through the jumble of items messily and knocked them deliberately and hastily onto the floor. There was a small clatter as something heavy hit the carpet. 

“What was that?” He asked, straightening up to look at you across the double bed. 

“Just my hair straighteners...” You shrugged before crawling onto the sheets. He followed from his side, balancing on his knees as he moved towards you. Reaching down beneath your covered knees, you roughly tugged the paisley patterned covers in an attempt to find the edge of the duvet. You gave up after a moment, instead opting to lay on your back on top of the quilt. Yoongi joined you and reached out for the sleeve of your jacket, running his hand along the black leather before curling his hand around the curve of your upper arm.

“It looks good on you.” He complimented. 

You flipped your head dramatically to look at his soft expression beneath his ruffled black hair, your eyes flickering from his pale, creamy skin to his covered chest. You smirked, finding yourself in your tipsiness unable to stop coming back around to the topic of his sweater. “Who wears leather and wool?” 

He reached forward and eased the jacket from your shoulders. You allowed him to slip the sleeves down your arms and pull the fabric from your body but as he moved to discard the jacket on the bedroom floor, you found yourself clutching at it, suddenly worried that he was going to tell you he wanted it back for good. It was just the alcohol, but the thought made you panic.

“No...no...” You called out. He let go of the jacket and allowed you to take it back, watching as you pressed it against your body as though you were cradling a newborn baby. You were silent for a few moments before you reached into one of the oversized pockets and brought out a packet of cigarettes and a disposable lighter Yoongi must have forgotten had been in there. You had not seen him smoke in over a month but knew his habit was sporadic and he could just as likely start again tomorrow. You allowed the black jacket to drop to the bedroom floor, your interest in the item forgotten now that your attention was fully fixed on the half-full packet of twenty. Yoongi watched you curiously from his side of the bed, resting on his side. 

You flipped open the packet and placed a cigarette between your lips, letting the cardboard box drop to the covers as you flopped back onto your back and focused your attention on the purple lighter in your hand. You flicked your fingers against the small metal wheel a few times to create a spark. 

“What are you doing?” Yoongi asked, leaning over you and reaching for the cigarette. He took it and flipped it around before placing it back between your open, pouting lips. You realised, belatedly, that you had put the wrong end in your mouth and had been about to set alight to the filter. You were an inexperienced smoker, having only tried on a handful of occasions during your university years, but had been suddenly overcome with the desire to get a reaction from him. You reached up and lit the correct end, watching as a pillar of blue-grey smoke drifted towards the chipped white paint on the ceiling. 

Yoongi’s eyes remained fixed on you. “Don’t you have smoke alarms?” He asked. 

“Disabled.” You felt an intoxicating rush with each inhale, the smoke hitting your lungs harshly and causing you to feel a little dizzy. 

He leaned over your body and caressed your lips with his fingertips before removing the cigarette. You had neglected to flick the ash from the end of the stick and a couple of inches protruded from the white paper. Yoongi, cupping the cigarette between his thumb and index finger, took a drag before tapping it a couple of times against a ceramic dish on your bedside table. He moved back to his side of the bed as you watched him inhale and exhale a couple of times expertly, the nicotine hit clearly not having the same effect on him as it had on you. 

“You’re such a shit...” You called from the pillow. He glanced down at you, the cigarette pressed to his lips. “You make it look sexy.” You explained. 

He smirked, taking another drag. “You went in my pocket...” He shrugged. 

“You gave me your jacket.” You argued. 

He grinned. “It looks good on you.” He repeated, leaning forward and pressing the half-finished cigarette back to your lips. You reached up with your right hand and took it between your middle and forefinger, taking another drag. “It compliments your breasts...” He continued, his dark eyes briefly flashing towards your visible cleavage.

Smirking, you grasped your right breast a little roughly with your spare hand. “I was thinking of getting them reduced.” You teased, slightly annoyed that smoking one of his cigarettes had not had the kind of reaction that you craved from him. You felt your desire from earlier returning. “Nothing fits me anymore...” Your voice slurred a little, despite your arousal, the effects of the beer and nicotine were causing you to become factious and a little quarrelsome. 

“Are you serious?” He asked. You heard a stab of concern in his voice and smiled softly, suddenly losing interest in making him agitated and instead wanting nothing more than to feel his hands on your body. 

“No...”

He let out a breathy sigh of relief. “Thank fuck. They’re perfect.” He smiled as he reached over to your hand, now laying at your side, and picked the quickly forgotten cigarette from between your fingers. You had smoked it down to the filter. He reached back over you and stubbed the end out in the little ceramic pot before settling back down beside you and moving his hand to your thigh, rubbing gently along the denim of your jeans. You shifted onto your side and faced away from him, reaching for the metal button of your jeans and quickly unclasping them, tugging down the waistband to reveal your black panties. You had opted to wear a G-string when you had gotten changed earlier; enjoying the feeling of Yoongi’s eyes on your bare arse as you slipped down the comfy pair you had worn for work. Now, you finally felt his hands against your skin as he massaged your bottom with his bony fingers, kneading the soft flesh leisurely as you let out a soft moan. 

“Are you horny?” You asked, not bothering to turn around and read his expression. 

“I wouldn’t say no.” He replied. You could hear a trance of humour in his voice and smiled. 

“I am...” You sighed. 

“I can tell.”

“I don’t hate your sweater.” You admitted, feeling as though you were revealing an important secret. Your body still buzzed pleasantly with the effects of the beer.

“I know.” His voice sounded a little more serious than you expected and you felt your chest ache. 

“I love you.” You no longer wanted to tease him, just feel him pressed against you and inside of you. 

“I love you more.” He said. 

You reached backwards, reaching for him, wanting to hold him. Your hand brushed his bulge. “I love your cock...” You said candidly, your thoughts immediately distracted by the feel of his crotch beneath your hand. 

He let out a breathy laugh as you rubbed him through his jeans. “You’re drunk...”

“I know.” You gave him a little squeeze. “But I do.” You plucked up the strength and effort to roll your body to face him and unbutton his jeans. He allowed you to slip him out of his white underwear and watched on, a little amused, as you took him in your mouth. He wasn’t quite fully hard but you moved along him regardless, sucking his length a few times before moving away and flopping back down onto your side, your attention span floundering with your intoxication. You felt tired. 

After a few moments of patient silence, you felt Yoongi loop his arms loosely around your torso as he nestled himself against you. You allowed him to hold you for a few minutes in silence, clutching his hand in yours and enjoying the soft feeling of his green sweater against your skin. The wool smelt soft and powdery, of the washing powder he used mixed with the spicy-woody scent of his aftershave. Beneath that, there was the lingering but not entirely unpleasant scent of beer and cigarette smoke which drifted from his warm breath on your shoulder. Felling the softness of his lips as he kissed your bare shoulder, your craving to have him closer to you returned and you moved his hand upwards, encouraging him to caress your breast through the thin fabric of your top. He complied silently, squeezing his palm gently around your flesh and massaging you in small, circular motions. 

“Do you want to fuck me?” You whispered, breathy. 

“I just want to be close to you.” He purred against your ear, pressing himself closer to your back as though to prove his point. His hand continued stroking your right breast and you moaned as you felt the hard nub of your nipple connect with the centre of his palm. 

“How close?” You asked, a new craving occurring to you.

“What did you have in mind?” His voice is open, inquisitive and you couldn’t help but feel grateful for his amiability in that moment. You had never brought up the topic with anyone else and, in honesty, had never truly given it much thought, but the sudden urge to try it out was overwhelming. You reached behind you and confidently slipped your thong down to your knees to join your jeans. 

“I haven’t tried anal before. Have you?” You asked. 

“No.” You couldn’t read anything into the tone of his voice.

“Do you want to try?” 

There was a pause and you suddenly felt your alcohol-fuelled confidence dwindle. After a moment his voice called out. “It’s dim...” You frowned, confused, as he reached over your body and flicked the switch on the bedside lamp. You realised that he meant the single energy saving bulb hanging from the ceiling did not cast enough light in the room to properly see what you were doing. You had meant to change it for the last few weeks. He looked down at you, hovering on his hands before kissing you passionately. You found yourself sinking into him easily, feeling your chest ache with your simple and uncomplicated love for him in that moment. You knew, in the back of your mind, that the feeling would not last long; that when the weekend was over he would be travelling again and have to leave you for days, weeks or even months. You tried to ignore this nagging, stupid feeling and allowed yourself to be consumed by his taste, his soft caressing lips and warm breath as he held you close. You seemed to lose track of the time as he cradled you, his arm supporting the back of your neck, and when he finally pulled away you found that you had half-forgotten the question you asked him in the first place. 

“Do you have lube?” He asked in a low voice, the question bringing your thoughts back on track. He lowered you back onto the sheets and you settled back in your previous position, facing away from him.

“No...” 

He huddled against you and, after a moment, pressed his fingers to your cunt, slowly sinking his fore and middle finger into you up to the knuckle. You gasped as he filled you out, slicking his digits with your juices. You could feel yourself growing wetter as he casually fingered you, coating himself with you and listening to your moans with parted lips. He pulled out and trailed his fingertips upwards, rubbing the pucker of your other hole a little with his moist digits. Your breath hitched audibly at the new sensation. It was exciting if not entirely pleasant. 

“Is this okay?” He asked quietly, caressing you a few more times. 

“Yes...” You gasped, wondering whether he would be able to succeed. It suddenly didn’t feel as important that he did. You were beginning to feel a little tired again.

He removed his fingers from you and grasped himself tightly, tumescent but not quite rock-hard. He nestled himself between your folds before sinking into your cunt languidly, dipping in and out of you with soft, nonchalant motions, lubricating his cock unhurriedly. Eventually, he slipped out of you and pressed upwards. You gasped as you felt the very tip of his cock penetrate and push into you. He held you still, his spare hand grasping your bare arm as he pushed forward with his hips. You anticipated pain or pleasure or something more substantial than the vague sensation you were currently experiencing, but it soon became apparent that he could not immerse himself any further. 

“I don’t think...” His voice said, low, from behind you. 

“You’re not close enough.” You argued softly, adjusting your hips as he parted your legs further in response, pushing one in front of the other before moving back in. He tucked you against him, moving his hand to your waist and you let out a moan, not in response to the sensation between your legs but at how close his upper body was to you. 

His breath was warm against your neck as he sighed. “I don’t want to hurt you...” You remained silent as he persevered for another minute, holding himself against you. Eventually you felt him pull away. “I’m sorry. I don’t think I can.” 

You rolled over on to your back slowly, wanting to see his face and finally feeling more sober. You met his gaze. He looked apologetic and you reached out for his hand. 

“I’m sorry I don’t take it up the arse everyday.” You joked drily, brushing your thumb over his bony knuckles. His face cracked up in a grin and he laughed. You smiled in reply, letting him know that you weren’t disappointed. It had been a drunken suggestion and nothing more. You didn’t know whether you would ever feel the need to try it again, but the moment, at least for now, had passed. 

He brushed his palm over your stomach, running it under the thin fabric of your shirt and you left your jeans and underwear where they were, seeing that he was no longer hard. You felt your eyelids growing droopy and heavy and rolled back over onto your side to mimic your usual sleeping position. You felt him press against your back once more, nestling his thigh between your parted legs. 

“Is this close enough?” He purred, kissing the edge of your ear. 

“Yes.” You closed your eyes, not bothering to turn off either of the lights. “You shouldn’t have thrown away the leftovers...” You mumbled, feeling yourself starting to drift. 

His lips moved down to your shoulder and he pressed his mouth to you. “I’m sorry.” He said, sounding tired himself. 

Sleep had started to take you but you mustered up the last of your energy, feeling it was very important that he knew. “I love you.” You murmured against the duvet. “I wish there was a better word to explain it...”

“I know.” His low voice vibrated through your body. “I feel the same.”

You smiled, a little sadly, not that he could see. “Turn off the lamp.” You said. “I’m trying to save electricity...” 

Just before sleep finally consumed you, the warm red glow behind your eyelids faded. You felt the weight of him move off the bed as he walked across the room to switch off the main bulb. Everything turned black before you heard the rustle of him behind you as he crawled back into bed. His lips returned to the back of your neck and you felt the warmth of his breath on your skin, eventually slowing down as you both slid into darkness. Your last waking thought was that you loved him with all your heart and that you hoped it would be enough.

***  
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